


A Moment of Fleeting Possibilities

by The_Disaster_Tiefling (Akiko_Natsuko)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: CR Ep 56, Choices, Diplomacy, Doubt, Fear, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Future, Gen, Time - Freeform, possibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 01:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/The_Disaster_Tiefling
Summary: A chance…for our future.He thinks, as instead, he reaches into the haversack, fingers trembling as he grabs the dodecahedron and for a moment he’s caught, trapped in a thousand fleeting possibilities as it pulses beneath his fingertips. Different futures and pasts flickering past him, most to quick for him to make out any details, he sees the future he had imagined, he sees another where they are in jail, and any number of variations in between.





	A Moment of Fleeting Possibilities

 

_We are going to die._

    The thought had been building, rising at the back of his mind while they listened to Nott and Jester talking, and it became a scream as the Queen’s expression grew colder.  His fingers itched, fire simmering beneath the skin, but he ignored it, knowing that even if they weren’t still trapped in the charade of being slaves, that they weren’t in any position to turn this into a fight. _We’re going to die._ In the past that thought would have been enough to have his mind racing, scrambling for a way to make sure that he and Nott survived, with less focus on the others. Now, his mind begins to race, a thousand possibilities or more flashing across his thoughts because there has to be a way to get them all of this because he can’t lose any of them.

    He’s never been so glad for the way that his mind works as he is a second later, quicksilver thoughts still running rampant, even as he catches the flicker in her expression, the tightening of her eyes as Nott uses the mote of possibility to try and fix things and the definite tilt of her head. _She knows._ It’s not a question, and there’s no doubt in his mind, and somewhere, deep in his mind, his thoughts begin to quieten as an idea forms. It’s a terrible idea. One that could change everything. That could destroy their group, their world.

But it’s a chance.

A mote of possibility.

    Before he can act or even begin to weigh the odds any further, a voice rings out, and he is helpless to do anything as they’re identified. Terror grips him then, because they’re the centre of attention once more and not in a good way, and he can feel the others shifting around him, fear and horrified realisation settling in as they inch closer to one another seeking comfort and cover. It won’t be enough. He knows that even before the court rises, surrounding them and looking down with accusing eyes, and for a moment he’s in a different time and place.

_His master’s eyes are narrowed in disapproval, looking down at where Bren was cradling his arm against himself and sobbing softly. ‘I thought that you were stronger than this Bren, was I wrong to believe that you were going to be my brightest flame?_

He blinks, shaking off the past because he can’t afford to lose focus right now, but Nott is right there, practically shrinking against him now, and his memories surge forth again.

  _He’s filthy and starving, head bowed as he waits for the Law Master to decide his fate. Expecting death, almost ready to embrace it, but shivering with fear at the same time._

    The dull thud of the Queen’s staff hitting the ground forces him back into the present, and he manages to brush his fingers against Nott’s head, the only comfort he can offer her right then before the silence is broken as cold eyes bore into them.

“Is this true?”

_We’re going to die._

The thought is reaching a crescendo again, and he’s almost numb as he hears Nott admit to the fact that they’d fought against the Queen’s people, unable to shush her, his voice trapped behind the lump that has risen in his throat. _We’re going to die._ Jester’s is protesting now, trying to convince them that they’re not soldiers of the empire, and his stomach churns and coils, and he feels as though his past must be written across his face. _Your people,_ Nott had said not many weeks before, and the churning becomes nausea as he has to look down, terrified that the Kryn will look at him and see the truth. See the stain of the Empire on his soul.

    Fjord is speaking now, but there’s a nervousness beneath the deep rolls of his voice that can’t be missed, and Caleb is struck by almost overwhelming urge to laugh because he knows that they’re screwed. It doesn’t matter what pretty words they can try and summon up now, what lies or even truths they might offer, they’ve already played their hand and lost.

_We’re going to die._

   It’s a certainty now, not just a fear as he lifts his head to glance at the Queen as Fjord trails off into silence, shivering at the ice in her expression.  Her voice when she speaks is like a whip, lashing out, and leaving a chill in the air that seems to reach down into his very heart, and he bows his head as she calls for the guards. Nott’s last frantic attempt to convince them fading into a whimper, as there is the dull thud of boots behind them.

They surrender.

     There’s no other choice at that moment, although Jester is still protesting their innocence, fear in her voice and Caleb’s heart aches at the sound because it’s just like the last time she was taken. Only this time there won’t be anyone left to come to rescue them. _Unless._ There’s nothing else for him to do at the moment, letting the others’ words wash over him, as his eyes dart towards the bright pink haversack.

_A chance._

_A mote of possibility._

    There are hands on his shoulders, unfriendly hands and usually, that would be enough to send him spiralling into a panic, but right now he is too focuses. _One chance._ He doesn’t need to be able to use Caduceus’s divination, or ask the dodecahedron what the future holds, he can see it in his mind's eye as clear and vivid as though it had already happened.

_He sees Caduceus on the ground again. Eyes wide, and empty. Killed not by a wayward explosive bolt, with friends…family by his side to give him a second chance. But killed in cold blood, the wounds on his body speaking of a hard death, punishment for a transgression the Firbolg probably didn’t fully understand._

_He sees Fjord beside him, golden eyes dulling, even as water surges up around him with a thousand eyes hidden amongst the waves. Punish, the whisper is audible to all of them at that moment before Fjord is screaming even as he falls. Uk’otoa not granting him any reprieve even in death._

_He sees Jester, sobbing and pleading, still trusting that they have a chance even as she grips the sign of the Traveller. She’s praying, begging for rescue just as she had back then. The words a litany on her lips, even as blood begins to trickle down her chin as she falls victim to Kryn blades._

_He sees Nott, desperate and pleading right to the end. Not for herself, but for the husband that she had chased to the ends of the earth and fallen short of, and at that moment, she has never looked less goblin-like, even as she shrieks as she is cut down, even as Yeza is promised a similar fate._

_He sees Yasha fight then, her grief turning to rage as her friends…her family begin to fall around her, and she’s strong, wings emerging behind her as thunder roars in the distance. It’s not enough, and while she leaves a bloody trail in her wake, she too falls, and in the distance, the storm falls silent._

_He sees Beau – bloody and broken, with tears on her cheeks as she finally falls. She had fought in the end, as she saw the others falling. She had pretended that she didn’t care, she had promised Dairon that she would live – but all that is stripped away as she meets his gaze one last time._

_He sees himself. Alone once more. Failure pressing in on him…grief sending him to his knees, and he doesn’t fight. He doesn’t let the flames that simmer beneath his skin flare, because there is nothing left to fight for._

    Less than a minute has passed, the guards still settling into place around their group and yet to Caleb it feels like a lifetime. _We’re all going to die._ He knows that there’s a chance they will be allowed to live and be given the ‘mercy’ of jail, but in his thoughts, that possibility seems as fleeting and ethereal as those fates he’d just imagined. They’d lied to the Queen, they’d fought her people and entered her sanctum under false pretences, and he could see no way in which such sins could be forgiven.

_Unless._

“I’m sorry,” he shouts before he can begin to doubt himself, knowing that there will only be one chance for this to work as he holds his hands in the air. He’s already doubting himself, trying not to look at the others for fear that he’ll lose what nerve he has. Instead, he focuses on the future he had imagined, trying to shore up his resolve. “We’ve come to bring you something.” He flinches as the others gasp around him, feels their eyes burning into him, wondering if they’ve realised what he’s thinking and are trying to stop him.  “We have come to bring you something. We have come a long way…” He can hear Fjord muttering for him to stop, to let them just be arrested and his heart twists, seeing the Half-orc fall again in his mind. _We’re going to die,_ he wants to tell him, but he can’t, because if he does, he will lose his focus and they will all die.

     On the other side of the group, there’s a scuffle as Caduceus is forced to the ground, held there by weapons that are far too sharp and far too close. _Caduceus lying bloodied on the ground,_ he blinks and shakes his head, biting his lip as Yasha is forced into shackles. He knows that they won’t hold her if she loses her temper, but she’s not fighting now, because they haven’t given her a reason to…yet.

“Please, please spare us,” Nott’s voice, tiny and terrified amongst the clink of armour and chains, draws his attention. “He’s my…he’s my husband. Y-you have my husband. You’re holding my husband.” Caleb’s heart twists at her words, realising before she does that, they’re falling on deaf ears, and it shores up his resolve because he had promised her that they would find her husband. He had promised himself that he would make amends for ‘ _your people’,_ and he takes a deep breath, knowing that this might not be enough. That this chance, this possibility might fail too, but it’s all he has. The only weapon he has that might spare them, that might keep his family alive a little bit longer, and so he speaks and prays to the gods that he has long since lost all faith in.

“The Empire is working against you. Wildmount is working against you, and we have brought proof if you will allow me to show it to you.” _A chance, please that’s all I need,_ his voice is wavering, the fear lying thick and heavy across his shoulders as all eyes turn to him again, and he feels sick, beginning to shake even before the first question comes.

“What proof?!”

“I need to approach my friend.” He hopes and prays that no one can hear the hesitation on that last word, because he’s still so unsure of what they are…of what they might be even if his idea works, and he’s quick to continue. “I mean no harm, I need to remove something from…” He trails off under their suspicious gazes, feeling the sharp point of a blade pressing between his shoulders and he goes silent, waiting for it to press home.

“You have a moment, anything strange and I will take of your head.”

_A chance._

    He nods to show that he understands, not quite trusting his tongue right then before glancing across at Jester and meeting her gaze. She’s frightened, and he has a feeling that he might be about to make it worse, but there’s no time to change that, and instead, he steps forward, hands still raised, trying to be as unthreatening as possible. “Jester I am coming to you, okay?” He murmurs, the only comfort he can offer at the moment is that brief warning, as he steps across to her. “I am just going to open this bag.” He narrates as he reaches for the haversack, not wanting them to think he is a threat, and he’s glad he had because there is the sound of more weapons being drawn as he reaches for it. The sound echoing through the chamber and seeming to vibrate through him as he froze for a minute, sweat beading on his skin because he knows that one wrong move or word, and he will be dead and the others not long afterwards.

“I say this as a child of the Empire.” The words taste like ash in his mouth, and for a moment all he can see is flames and ashes because there is painful truth in those words. He had been a child of the Empire, a willing one. _Had been,_ he reminds himself, forcing himself to continue. “Connected to the inner circles there long ago.” _Not long enough,_ he thinks, the scars on his arms beginning to itch and he bites his lip, knowing that he can’t reach for them right now.

_A chance…for our future._

    He thinks, as instead, he reaches into the haversack, fingers trembling as he grabs the dodecahedron and for a moment he’s caught, trapped in a thousand fleeting possibilities as it pulses beneath his fingertips. Different futures and pasts flickering past him, most to quick for him to make out any details, he sees the future he had imagined, he sees another where they are in jail, and any number of variations in between. There’s a split second where he hesitates because this is powerful and perhaps the power he has been looking for, but this is also their chance. _We’re going to die._ His fingers tighten on it, and he’s back in the present and lifting it out of the bag with hands that shake more than they ever had before, as past and present collide as he holds it aloft.

Silence.

    Broken by the tinkling bells of weapons hitting the ground, and gasps and whispers breaking out across the room, as the dodecahedron pulses in his hand. A heartbeat against his sweating palms and he can count their lives in the throb and pulse of the sound. _A chance for us to live._ Every eye is on him again, but he’s almost numb to it at that moment because the Bright Queen has moved, stepping towards him, the eyes that had been so cold and terrible only moments before now locked on the dodecahedron, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

“I am of the Empire, but I am no friend of the Empire.” He trembles at his own words, and he can’t bring himself to look at the others, especially Beauregard. He can’t speak for them, he won’t speak for them, and he can only hope that the Kryn will realise that, that his words will only condemn him … _and save them._ “One of our own came to retrieve this and fell, and I bring it to you.”  He does not let himself think about that terrifying night in Zadash or the battle in the sewer for fear that it will be written across his face and undo what small amount of progress has been made. Instead, he sets the dodecahedron down a few feet in front of Jester before stepping back, his hands in the air once more.

    There’s a pause, and to Caleb, it feels a hundred times longer than all the possibilities he had glimpsed in the brief second with the dodecahedron, even though the eyes are no longer solely focused on him, but rather the beacon and in turn the Bright Queen as she raises her staff.

“Release their bindings.” He still can’t breathe, even as he sees Caduceus allowed to climb back to his feet, and Yasha freed from her chains, as one by one they are released from their bindings, the hands that had been holding them falling away. They’re all looking at him, and at the Queen, as she glides closer, a tall, elegant figure that’s no longer as terrifying as she had been a moment ago, and yet Caleb at that moment, teetering on that edge of a thousand possibilities is more afraid than ever. Because it seems as though his gamble has worked, that they might have their chance…and he doesn’t have a clue to go from there, the future shifting and morphing into something new and terrifying before his very eyes, because of what he has done.

_A chance._

    The Queen is in front of them now, reaching down to lift the beacon, and it pulses, it’s heartbeat a counterpart to hers he realises as the dodecahedron casts its glow across her features. She’s beautiful, ethereal, and yet breathtakingly mortal as she meets his gaze, tears still shimmering in her gaze and says softly. “You bring us hope, and you have undone one of many great wounds done to us today.” The words are soft, little more than a whisper although they carry clearly through the cavernous room, but to Caleb, they feel as though they had just been screamed with all the force of Nott’s ‘your people’, and he has to look away as she continues just as softly. “I have no words; my emotions burn within my chest.”

    There’s a pause, filled with the same possibilities as the beacon and Caleb has to look up, and there in the back of his mind is a lingering whisper of ‘ _we’re going to die’_ that curls through his thoughts as she declares solemnly. With the weight of fate resting in each word as she meets and holds his gaze. “If you are no friend to the Empire, You’ve certainly today become heroes of the Dynasty.”


End file.
